


Too

by Sourwoif



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon AU: Five years later, M/M, Symbolism, i'm sorry i did this instead of english homework, spot the author's tools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:05:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sourwoif/pseuds/Sourwoif
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hurry up.”</p><p>“I can’t, the light’s red.”</p><p>“I don’t care, go fast.”</p><p>“We’re in a Prius.”</p><p>“Well I want to be in a Post-us. So hurry up, we’re almost there.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too

 “Derek, he’s… I can’t explain it. He’s just…different.” The halted manner in which Scott spoke was not comforting in the least. Derek eyed the alpha before him, for a moment wondering why the hell he was even here. He’d meant to leave forever, he really had, but then Cora had given him a knowing look that one time in Cincinnati, and here he was.  She hadn’t returned with him, gone off to college, decided it was time to make something of herself. And well…like he said, here he was.

Five years later, that is.

“People don’t just change, Scott.” Derek couldn’t help rolling his eyes, turning away from the other and going back to…what the hell had he been doing again? Oh, right, cooking. Fuck everything, he’d gone domestic. A domestic omega pestered by a younger Alpha perpetually. Ugh.

“He has! Trust me, Derek, I freaking know my best friend, and this isn’t him!” The hands were flailing about more frantically now, and the helpless puppy eyes were actually getting to him every time Derek peeked at Scott.

“Do you think maybe _four years in college_ might have been it?” He sarcastically quipped, sprinkling some salt on the…what the fuck was that? God, he didn’t care anymore. At all. He turned off the stove aggressively and turned to glare at Scott and completely blame him for ruining his dinner. “People change over time, and maybe you were a bit too stupid to notice. It’s not exactly surprising.”

“Wha- hey! I'm the Alpha, I can notice things!” He growled, “You need to see it yourself, come on.” And with that, the younger werewolf was slamming out of Derek’s apartment, leaving an irritated twenty-nine year old to trail after him.

“You owe me dinner.” He remarked with a sour expression as he got in the car with Scott and let the other rush off to their target’s apartment.

***

“Isaac!” Scott burst into the younger werewolf’s apartment like he was a undercover FBI agent, quickly bolting towards the bedroom.

“Scott, maybe you should wait until-“

“SCOTT GOD DAMNI-!”

The curse was cut off by a _very_ feminine shriek and said Scott barreling out the room with several apologies spilling from his mouth.

“You’re an idiot.” Derek muttered with a sigh, rubbing his forehead in a manner only perfected after six years of being in the presence of Scott McCall.

“I-um. I never thought- y’know-…” And then he was clearing his throat and Derek was walking out of the apartment so quick he probably left scuff marks on the hard wood floors. He didn’t give a damn.

That is, until he ran smack dab into some poor soul walking past that particular apartment door, which, really, it was unfortunate to be slammed into by an irritated, one hundred eighty-five pound werewolf.

“Fuck sorry- I didn’t-“

“It’s fine I-“

“-see you there-“

“-wasn’t looking-“

“Stiles?”

“Derek.”

They stood, dumbfounded, for a good forty-five seconds before Scott muttered “Scott.” and jolted them from their thoughts. “You…live here?”

“Uh, no I’m rooming with Isaac for now, who looks like he’s about to eat the innards of some unlucky werewolf, which is my cue to _leave_.” As soon as he was turning back towards his car, and Scott was being dragged back into the apartment, Derek’s hand shot out and grasped the back of Stiles’s shirt.

“Wait- Take me with you.” Damn, he’d meant that to sound much less helpless, but he’d already blown away any chance of pride when he’d grabbed the back of the too tight shirt like a grade schooler.

“Yeah, sure whatever, c’mon. I was just gonna get a milkshake or something.” Stiles didn’t seem to even react to having a grown man tugging at his shirt like a kid, only giving an amused look when Derek quickly snatched his hand back and nodded quickly. He opened the door to his- was that a fucking _Prius_? What the fuck.

Derek wisely said nothing to the young adult offering him a ride, deciding to keep it as ammo for the next time he met with him. Hopefully, that would be soon. He hadn’t seen a lick of Stiles in nearly three years now, ever since the holiday visits went opposite and the Sheriff starting driving out instead. He’d never found out why the Stilinski family worked that way, and he never bothered to ask.

And god did those three years go by well for Stiles. Derek kept his eyes straight ahead, but he couldn’t help glancing now and again to appreciate the surprisingly hairy and muscled forearms belonging to the once hyperactive teen. He’d retained the lean slenderness that had always marked Stiles’s form, but his shoulders had broadened, causing a stark comparison to his narrow hips. He was just a man of exaggerated proportion, somehow making it work when combined in one body. Hands too big for such narrow wrists, mouth too pleasantly curved for such an angular face, nose too comical for such aged eyes, he was just-… _too_.

Yet, he seemed to make it work with a glamor that many celebrities would envy. A glamor that even Derek envied. The twitching fingers of time’s past now tapped in recognizable rhythms, the heart that had previously beat with the abandon of kittens on crack now kept a steady dance, occasionally tripping for unknown reasons. Jesus Christ, he was analyzing Stiles a little too close for comfort; he needed to stop before he started wondering about what the other had been up to the last three years.

 _Probably screwing his way through the entire female population at college_ , Derek thought, making a face when he realized what he’d said in his head. Where the fuck had that come from?

The halting of the vehicle in front of a town favorite diner startled Derek out of his reveries, and he turned to find an expectant eyebrow quirked on Stiles’s face.

“So…you comin’ in with me, or you gonna sit here and brood?” Damn, even his voice had changed- not by much of course. It was just…so _smooth_ now. It was almost impossible to consider that this- this was _Stiles_.

“Coming. With you- Into the diner I mean.” Why did he have to clarify? What the fuck? He slid out of the car quickly to avoid seeing Stiles’s reaction.

He didn’t miss a smirk or a sneer though. He missed seeing Stiles flushing and clambering to get out of the car as well.

***

“So, I tell him- No you idiot, your girlfriend’s been in the bedroom waiting for you for the last ten minutes, where the fuck you been?”  Derek choked on a sip of his milkshake when Stiles followed after with, “And then his very straight and male cousin stumbles straight out the closet with an inside out shirt.”

They both snickered like idiots, with half full milkshake glasses. Derek couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever just sat with someone and talked. Just talked, not about the oncoming death, or the creepy monsters waiting to kill everyone.

Stiles was relaxed, calm like he’d never been, the effect of telling stories back and forth for an hour straight. Despite the calm, he rarely smiled longer than for a few seconds, listening to Derek with an almost contemplating expression. When he spoke his lips quirked in an almost smile, but his eyes stayed focused with an intensity he had never possessed before. Derek wasn’t sure whether to be scared or horny, so he settled for both, although the latter was done much more tentatively.

Stiles had changed, more so than Derek had ever anticipated, almost more than he could deal with, actually. He wasn’t used to deal with this Stiles, _adult_ Stiles…Really fucking _hot_ Stiles _._    

He hadn’t realized that in his contemplation, they’d fallen in a comfortable silence filled only with the occasional sip of a milkshake. Derek opened his mouth to say something, but Stiles’s phone rang so he shut his mouth so quickly he heard his own teeth clack. He would never admit the way his eyes tracked the other’s hand, nor would he admit how he shifted when skilled fingers slid across the smooth screen.

“Yeah?” His lips were parted from each other as he listened to the caller, reminiscent of old times. Derek had always thought of squirrels when he saw Stiles, squirrels and puppies. The latter mostly for how he’d always trailed after Scott and Lydia with those exaggerated hearts in his eyes. He didn’t see the squirrel or the puppy in him anymore, even now. He saw something silent, maybe a fox, maybe even a jaguar, prowling and smart, with laughingly serious eyes and a mouth made to smirk from a joke that nobody has ever heard. “I don’t know. Are you done taking out your cock blocked frustration on him? Nah, I kinda like it here, might stay out all night, going wild, you know how it is.”

He threw a crooked smile at the werewolf sitting opposite him, and Derek stared down into his milkshake. He internally thanked all that was holy that Stiles had never been turned, or else all attempts at appearing stoic and unaffected would crash and burn.

Then the phone conversation was terminated, and before Derek could once again open his mouth to say something, _anything_ , Stiles was literally slapping down their tip and dragging the bewildered Hale right out the diner and into his car.

“Let’s go dancing.”

“ _What?”_

***

He took everything back, Stiles was still fucking crazy and unpredictable and _ridiculous_. And apparently bisexual. In a flurry of quick movements, hand motions and legitimate ID cards, Derek was standing at the bar of the Jungle and watching Stiles slam back…were those Purple Nurples? Fuck it, he couldn’t even tell at this point, Stiles could drink anything without a change in expression.

He never visited the Jungle, and he really didn’t want to start now, especially while being forced to watch Stiles eye every passing creature with some level of approval. No, stop that, look at _him_ , he had better muscles than just about every fucker here. Derek refrained from flexing like an idiot to catch some of his attention. He felt like snatching up Stiles and hiding him away, preferably in his apartment, maybe set him on the counter and spoon feed him homemade stew.  Or screw him against the wall. In fact, he didn’t even feel guilty about it anymore because he was twenty-three, and Derek was twenty-nine, and this was all fucking _legal_.

And then Stiles had a dance partner, and it wasn’t Derek.

 _Why the fuck am I here_. Derek slammed back another useless shot that wouldn’t work its magic unless the magic was horrible aftertaste. He watched Stiles roll his body against some stranger, bite his lips like he probably would in throws of ecstasy, eyes shut and a body meant to be graceless moving with surety. Derek didn’t bother acknowledging any flirtations, or lingering touches, his eyes were plastered on Stiles, only Stiles.

The song was only a few minutes long, but each passing minute was an eternity. Seriously, did he really need to grind back so many times a minute? Derek was tensed by the time Stiles made his way back, his new found elegance wobbly with the onslaught of alcohol in his system.

“What’s with the face, sourwolf?” Stiles huffed, plopping himself next to the other and giving him a grin. Derek reiterated with a growl and narrowed eyes.

“You’ve changed.” Stiles scoffed, shoving his hands in his small pockets and leaning his head back.

“Yeah, who hasn’t? S’been three years, man. People gotta change sometime.” There was bitterness in Stiles’s voice that hadn’t been there before, and Derek could tell he’d never like it. It had no place in the careless slur leaving the other’s lips.

“Let’s go, back to my apartment.” He hadn’t meant for that to leave his thoughts. Derek shifted uncomfortably at the amused look sent his way, barely refraining from sputtering and back tracking.

“Who knew grinding against a complete stranger in front of you was all it took to get some attention.” Stiles was already walking out of the club, Derek’s wide eyes tracking him in disbelief. He found that his mouth was even slightly ajar. He quickly paid for their drinks and rushed to follow.

He was already sitting in the passenger seat of the car, head tilted back and hand open, keys sitting in the palm. Derek sat in the driver’s seat and reached over, gently stealing away the keys from Stiles’s offering hand. He pressed the seat belt into the buckle, checking to make sure Stiles had as well, and smiling when he earned a grumble of “I’m not fucking stupid, I can still do basic shit like seatbelts, dickwad.” Only Stiles could make drunken slurs and uncouth insults cute. He was careful as he entered the keys into the ignition, starting up the engine of the car, a soft hum reverberating around them. Stiles shifted and got comfortable, a sigh leaving him. Derek pulled out of the parking spot, before rolling forward once more, driving out of the lot. They were close to his apartment, but the amount of traffic lights between here and there was ridiculous, so every few seconds, he jerked to a stop. The constant hum still surrounded them, and Stiles made an impatient noise, grunting into the window his face was pressed up against, “Hurry up.”

“I can’t, the light’s red.”

“I don’t care, go fast.”

“We’re in a Prius.”

“Well I want to be in a Post-us. So hurry up, we’re almost there.”

Derek didn’t even bother to try and understand what Stiles was saying, so he just obeyed as much as he could, slamming on the gas when the light turned green and zooming down the empty roads. Every light was green, as if Stiles’s impatience had alerted them. He felt himself being watched through a lidded gaze, parted lips beside him and an arching back with a bared throat. The last traffic light was already yellow, and he felt his passenger sit up abruptly and grasp his thigh, “Make it.”

He didn’t think twice about flying past the light, seeing just from the corner of his eye the change of yellow to red. A rush of adrenaline hit them both and Stiles relaxed, hand slipping from his leg, an eased smile on his lips.

***

Their exhaustion was exasperated by the time they stumbled to the door of Derek’s apartment, and Stiles snatched away the keys to the lock before any protest could be made. He fumbled for a good moment before shoving them into the lock uncaringly and slamming open the door, waltzing into Derek’s home without a second thought. He was trailed after by the other who cleaned up after him, closing the door and locking it, picking up the jacket and shoes discarded.

Stiles hadn’t even bothered to question where to sleep, finding the bedroom within moments and collapsing on Derek’s bed. It was literally seconds before snores resounded throughout the entire apartment.

“Jesus Christ, he’s ridiculous.” Derek muttered to himself with a half-smile, hanging up the jacket and watching the other sleep for a few moments.

He set up the couch for the night, and slept with a comfort that hadn't been present before for a while.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yes.


End file.
